


Stir fried (the adventure of a HSH in the kitchen world)

by cha hugyeon (jeadore)



Category: VIXX
Genre: Han Sanghyuk | Hyuk-centric, Other, Pre DoWonKyung era, blink and you'll miss ravi/ken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeadore/pseuds/cha%20hugyeon
Summary: Hyuk makes dinner tonight. And he may or may not end up crying.(It's really not that disastrous. There's onions.)





	Stir fried (the adventure of a HSH in the kitchen world)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this back in April, when I was making some empanadas and the feels hit me. But comeback happened and I wasn't so sure if I should post it or not. I'm doing it now, because I'd like to know what you think and because sweet dearest Eva even betaed it.  
> (Maybe I'll take it down in a week, or so.)  
> Hope you like it♥
> 
> tw: insecurities. Pre-DoWonKyung/Shangri-La era.

“Can I make dinner tonight?”

 

The question comes out of the blue between little gasps for air and half-hearted stretching, and everybody in the practice room looks at Sanghyuk wide-eyed. It’s already past midday and he should fleet to class in a few minutes but this is the only time they are all together before some schedule gets in the way so he should take advantage of it. It’s not like he’s asking for permission —it’s more like a warning. ‘Prepare your stomachs’ or ‘Don’t you dare eat anything else’, or something along those lines if someone asks.

 

“Hell, no,” Jaehwan shrieks and points at him accusingly or jokingly. Or both. “I’ve seen your cooking shows, Han Sanghyuk, I’m not dying tonight.”

 

“Do you even know how to crack an egg?” Wonsik asks, incredulously. Sanghyuk’s about to grunt a  _ look who’s talking _ because really? That’s very rich coming from someone who doesn’t know how to even turn on a stove. “I want to live and get married someday.” 

 

“Just ask Jaehwan hyung already,” Sanghyuk fireshoots back and takes all the pleasure and advantage he can of Wonsik’s sputtering before someone else makes another smart-ass comment. “I learnt some tricks from James-hyung in Vietnam, it’d be okay,” he assures. 

 

Hongbin snickers at  _ tricks _ , but he’s easily cut off by a few claps.

 

“Kids, kids. I think it’ll be nice to have some homemade food, don’t you?” The tone in Hakyeon’s voice wavers in a particular way, right on the edge between his leader-y and his motherly tone. Warm but slightly dangerous, especially when it comes accompanied by his glare. Like now. Hakyeon’s glaring around, placing his eyes for an instant on every member — a short but significant instant. Only Taekwoon nods. “Good. Surprise us, Hyuk-ah.”

  
  
  


*

  
  


He comes back early. He may or may not have skived off from his last class, but please don’t let his manager or Hakyeon know. Sometimes the unusual need of calmness can only be fulfilled by their dorm during the late afternoon, before the sun starts to set behind grey skyscrapers and the warm rays of light still linger on the end of the couch and on the surface of the kitchen sink. Also, the dorm is deserted. No one is there, everyone’s busy with their own schedule, the studio, the practice room. 

 

No one except Taekwoon today. But Taekwoon doesn’t bother him, only cocks an eyebrow at the size of the grocery bags in Sanghyuk’s hands and says something that doesn’t go further from a  _ please don’t burn anything _ . “I’ll be in my room.”  _ Call if you need something _ , Sanghyuk nods. He won’t, Taekwoon has a late night Mata Hari practice in a few hours.

 

Alone, he takes out the ingredients his sister told him would be necessary. A carrot, a red pepper, three onions, sesame oil, soy sauce, sugar, beef, three dried shiitake mushrooms, some garlic and a bunch of sweet potato noodles. Then, he places them around a chopping board in a not so meticulous way.

 

But what on earth should he do next. Or first. 

 

He grabs his phone and looks for the mail his sister sent him, nicely titled ‘ _ Japchae recipe for SangDumb’ _ . 

 

_ First, boil some water. _ Easy.

_ Then, separate the ingredients and slice them in julienne strips (half of your ogre index finger, aprox). Except the beef!! It should be bigger. _ Uh, okay. 

 

Sanghyuk grabs the knife and goes for the easiest one. The beef is cut in a fair minute, all red flesh and blood —luckily, not Sanghyuk’s. So he cleans the knife and the board, and proceeds with the carrot. Mushrooms are ready to be sliced when hesitation hits him. He looks at the pan placed above the stove, should he turn the stove on now or later? How hot should the oil be?

 

It’s stupid, he knows, his doubts are stupid, but man... Sanghyuk barely has any idea of what he’s doing. Emphasis in barely. Although he’s trying, he reminds himself, he’s at least trying. Once, twice, thrice and keep on doing it. Try and practice. It’s his way of learning. He’s not a natural, he’s hardworking. 

 

So he slices the mushrooms and the garlic.

 

The front door opens but he vaguely hears it over the chopping noise, a tad different from the loud “This is a shit ton of food!” It must be late if Jaehwan’s already there with his hair styled up and full strong make up covering his face, like he just walked out from a photoshoot. Rushed by their manager and by his own tiredness covered under foundation. 

 

“We’re feeding the entire kpop industry?” Jaehwan asks, still loud and annoying. Yet it’s cute, especially the way his perky nose catches the scents of the ingredients. 

 

Just out of spite, Sanghyuk grabs the onions. 

 

“Are we  _ poisoning _ the entire kpop industry?” Hongbin corrects, padding after Jaehwan with a little smirk. The bags under his eyes are quite more visible and Sanghyuk is a bit surprised at how exhausting a script reading seems to be. Maybe the cast already started to practice their scenes and that drained all of Hongbin’s energy. Not his wit though. “You know, we aren’t  _ that _ competitive.”

 

“Nah, it’s just for us. And Hakyeon hyung’s friends.”

 

“That’s likely the same. Ah, so problematic,” Hongbin retorts with a notorious mock-wince. It kind of riles Sanghyuk up. 

 

“Then do something about it”, he answers and threatens him — them — with the onion in his hand.  _ Or fuck off _ .

 

“Nah, we trust you, Hyukkie. I’ll have the pizza place number ready, just in case.” Hongbin smiles brightly and disappears into the bathroom. He leaves his phone behind, next to Sanghyuk’s. 

 

Jaehwan whines that he called dibs on the bathroom when they were in the van, that he needs to take off his makeup before his skin pays the consequences, that  _ we talked about this Hongbinnie! _ And Hongbin just laughs when Taekwoon bangs the wall to shush him up.

 

“I’ll call Wonsikkie then! So he doesn’t forget and comes back early! Before midnight, at least.”

 

Before midnight is a good time, Sanghyuk thinks. He’s about to cut the onions yet and this japchae seems to take forever, so maybe before midnight he’ll be able to pull off something edible. He peels off the skin and washes the onion with hot water because it lessens their strong scent, or something like that. Then makes the first cut, slicing through layers until he has two halves on the board. Sanghyuk takes the smaller one and tries to do measured chops but ends up with messy sizes and blotchy red eyes.

 

The smell is acid, strong and hitting, shaking him really hard. It kind of reminds him of the times when Hakyeon tried to explain him how to cook —as if Hakyeon’s cooking skills were any better, lots of technique and devoid of any flavor, but back in their debut days Hakyeon seemed to be so perfect, so born-talented and all-rounded that Sanghyuk listened to him almost starstruck. (Sometimes, he still does.) 

 

Sanghyuk’s eyes prickle. 

 

Now Hakyeon’s too busy with two dramas shooting and his leader responsibilities to scold him about using a dirty knife and not drowning the two halves in hot water for at least thirty seconds. 

 

_ Oh _ , that was his bad.

 

He’s quite sure he’s tearing up a little by now, so he peels off the other two onions and quickly cuts and drowns the halves in hot water before it’s too late. But it is too late, he always feels a little too late to everything, or to early to be successful. Or whatever. Meanwhile, he turns on the stove because he can’t be still for too long, he can’t let his doubts paralyze him and the oil needs to be hot. At  least he knows that, even if it’s too soon. Things will burn fast —exterior too rough, interior too raw and underdone—  and neither the flavour of each ingredient nor the mix will be relished. 

 

But Sanghyuk’s  _ trying _ . This is practice, practice, practice until he gets something better than tolerable, better than average, akin to perfection. Practice, practice, practice. That’s all he’s busying himself with lately.

 

And no, he really doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Even if he has the recipe — adapted to him, to  _ SangDumb _ . Wash your hands, wash the vegetables, julienne them, smile big but not so big, dance, take a bow. 

 

He considers that after a few years he has learnt the recipe, but recipes aren't enough. Sheer luck or a well-kept secret are also necessary. 

 

“Help?” Taekwoon asks from behind and Sanghyuk almost drops the knife. Taekwoon’s always been so quiet, maybe he has the secret. And he would be kind enough to share it with Sanghyuk. Taekwoon also has schedules.

 

“Nah, I’m slaying this thing,” he answers and goes back to cutting. He can hear the slight sound, half snort half laugh, and Taekwoon’s stepping away. Sanghyuk’s thankful though. But this is his, his thing, his way of chopping the thoughts that torture his mind away, and he should do it alone. At least this time. Comeback’s around the corner and no one should be preoccupied with the feelings of a leftover, a silly ingredient that everybody leaves aside. 

 

He keeps on slicing the last onion, tears falling down his face, when a lame but brutally honest thought crosses his mind.

 

This is him. Without hair meticulously styled and without makeup. Just layer after layer of shields, viciously cut into tiny little pieces by himself. Leaving his heart to bleed invisibly.

 

_ It’s okay _ , he thinks. Onions are strong. You can try and neglect them, but they add flavour to the food. And sometimes, they are the special ingredient.

  
  


*

  
  


In the morning, he wakes up to Jaehwan's obnoxious dolphin imitation, settled as his alarm courtesy of Wonsik, and new messages in their group chat.

 

> **Hakyeon-hyung**
> 
> It was very tasty! just like our Hyogi~!
> 
> you should cook more often for your hyungs
> 
>  
> 
> **Kim Ravi**
> 
> yeah
> 
>  
> 
> **Hanzo master**
> 
> wonsik be more effusive. 
> 
> you ate 2 portions
> 
>  
> 
> **Kim Ravi**
> 
> no i didnt!
> 
>  
> 
> **Jellyfish Jaehwannie-hyung**
> 
> it was delicious! \o/
> 
> taekwoonie ate 3 hehe
> 
>  

A few minutes have barely passed since dawn, but it’s neither too early nor too late. It never is. Sanghyuk’s lips twitch upwards and he screencaps the whole conversation before falling into that easy and usually nonsensical banter.

 

> **sanghyuk**
> 
> so who’s the new kitchen master


End file.
